


Entr'acte: Lessons

by B_Radley



Series: Rise and Fight Again [11]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Not a university AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghosts of the distant and near past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entr'acte: Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> So much for a couple of days before jumping back into writing. Actually, this one was already completed. Could be a stand alone with a little squinting, but ties into the previous stories.
> 
> Please, feel free to leave feedback or coffee.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

**Bar'leth**

**4.5 Years after Order 66**

I sit in the small cafe drinking my fifth caf of the morning. Because I am waiting on a contact--a contact interested in further discussions of a rebellious nature, I can't leave to go to the refresher. Whoever said that the life of a revolutionary/espionage agent was glamorous has never sat in a cafe crossing and recrossing their legs, wondering if the local cops are really interested in enforcing the public decency laws when I find the nearest bush, raise my skirt and let fly.

Of course, my master and my other teachers took great pains to teach me techniques that could take my mind off of any physical bothers. I am trying to employ them now, but I am rusty at meditation.

I never really was all that good at it, until I needed something to center myself during and after the ordeals of my trial, my resignation, and aloneness for the next six or so years.

As I think about meditation, I am brought back to Barriss. Of course, always back to Barriss. Master Luminara's star pupil. My friend. My betrayer. A person whom I envied her centered calmness--the calmness that could allow her to drop into meditation anywhere. A calmness that only relaxed itself during my fumbling attempts to insert my tongue down her throat in our rare, stolen moments of sharing the light. Moments in which she was so calm that she almost ripped my only shirt off in her need to get to my breasts.

A calmness that was also not present as she ranted her defiance of the Order during my trial, moments before I was going to be sent to my date with a clone and blaster. Even during my painful reveries of that time, I am grateful to Barriss for opening my eyes as the Jedi Order cast me out at the slightest inkling that the Republic might be displeased. Only Anakin believed in me, or so I thought at the time.

Kenobi, who at least had the decency to cast a dissenting vote against expelling me and throwing me to Tarkin's tender mercies, told me later that Taliesin Croft, my hunt-brother, had rushed back to Coruscant as soon as he heard about the trial. He was in Separatist-held territory, trying to foment insurgency, and didn't even hear about it until just before my acquittal. Imagine the Republic's surprise when three unscheduled Venator class Star Destroyers jumped into orbit. Three ships under the command of one pissed-off Jedi. A Jedi, who apparently had problems with "attachment" in the Council's eyes.

A Jedi who proceeded to nearly get tossed out of the Order behind me when he confronted Mace Windu. He stayed a Jedi, but it was the beginning of his end in the Order.

Until he jumped back into my life as my so-called protector--I wound up saving his ass just as much--with a suit of _beskar'gam_ and a right cross last month, I thought that he had died with the Order that he felt was failing.

I smile to myself as I think about him. I am unsure where this might go. We didn't waste any time, after trying to avoid each other--or at least on my part. We soon picked up where we briefly left off on Garel, five or so years ago. The last time, I ran away from what we were moving to. On Naboo, he ran to keep me from going after my target - to go after it himself.

For a couple of people who were trained to look rationally at situations, all of that went out of the window whenever one seemed to be sacrificing themselves for the other. Or when we were in danger of getting too close, based on a one-sided opinion.

Neither of us are Jedi, and the whole stricture against any form of attachment--other than occasional itch-scratching, seems--seems to have died a merciful death. It was a farce to begin with, as Padawans and Masters bonded, as our lives depended on each other. Maybe I just didn't understand what the Jedi meant by "attachment," as it seems everybody was telling me to let go of everybody else.

I had told Covenant, as he called himself now, that I was going to Shili. I didn't mention that I had to come here for a meet. I don't know why I didn't. Old habits of trying to protect him came back to the surface. I could see it in his green eyes as he studied me. The feeling of guilt punches me in my gut.

I realize that I have moved back into the past. For about the fiftieth time, I wonder what the hell I am doing on a Core world. Out in the open. Meeting someone face to face. I shake my head and concentrate on the here and now. I look out over the sea of bright young university students walking between classes. I am somewhat relieved at the diversity of species here in the plaza, especially given the Empire's human-centric bent. Some things have gotten back to normal in the Empire, at least at the University of Bar'leth.

As I sit back and wait for someone to ask me the right question, I check out my "disguise." I am wearing what a privileged university student might be wearing--having spent their parents' allowance on clothing. I kind of like the leather jacket and sunshades; the top appeals to both of my cultures, as well, but I realize that I would probably go back to my standard vest, trousers and cloak outfit. Of course, the orange skin, white facial markings; not to mention my lekku and montrals might mark me as out of the ordinary, as not many of my people have been able to take advantage of higher education, except for the artisans and architects of the Kiros colony. I can't help that.

_Guess I am a scholarship student. At least I am the right age._

A tall Kel Dor, his mask in place as he walks up to my table, rips out my heart and turns it upside down. He nervously looks around as he adjusts his professorial robes. He is the spitting image--except for the nervousness--of the man I looked up to as my father, the man who brought me to the Temple almost twenty years ago. The man who I idolized until he voted with the Council to expel me. The man who was one of the only ones of the Council to apologize for his actions and admit he was wrong.

" _Ko-to-yah,_ my dear," he says, in that same deep voice - the voice that makes my heart sing, as well as fall. I stand and give the bow, " _Ko-to-yah,_ Mas- _Sava_ ," I stumble, the memories racing back.

_This is not Plo Koon. He died in his beloved Jedi fighter over Cato Nemoidia. I saw it in my visions of that day. Wolffe told me._

The not-Plo asks, "Pardon me, but are you in my economics class?"

 _Sabacc_!

I respond properly, "No, but I do have a tenth hour class during that time." He relaxes considerably. He sits down at my table and says, with a familiar hint of dry humor, "Then why are you cutting class?

"I am a student of life," I reply. He laughs.

I tell him, as he starts to speak. "No names, let's go somewhere inside, especially somewhere that has a 'fresher."

We walk into a covered food court on the University Plaza. I take care of my desperate need to stop my eyeballs from floating. He is waiting on me when I come out, breathing easier. I put my arm through his and we walk around the retail area. Just another Professor stepping out with another young student.

"I understand from my employer that you might be interested in joining our business club?" I intone.

"Yes, we are. The Empire..."

"Not here," I repeat. "I have just passed you your membership kit. That is how you can contact us. There is of course, a substantial vetting process, as you might surmise."

He takes it all in and nods.

"After you show us your interest, someone will contact you."

"Will it be you?" he asks. I swear I can feel hope. I have to dash it.

"No, it is too dangerous. You probably will never see me again. Unless, of course, you look up from your lecture and see me in an economics class," I add, with a Smirk.

"My dear, I have a feeling that you could teach that class." He releases me, and I reach up and kiss him on the cheek, to maintain the improper-professor-student-relationship cover. Or at least that is what I tell myself.

Before we part, he looks like he has something else to say. I pause before walking out. "My dear, you have the clothing and the age, but I watched you at your table. There is no way someone could mistake you for a university student."

I am speechless. I respond with my usual snark, "Can't pass for the smarts, huh?"

"On the contrary. No one could look into your beautiful eyes and not see the life experience, the intelligence, the hurt, and the wariness in them that all of these vacuous creatures couldn't begin to pull off," he says. "You could pass more as a professor, even as young as you are."

I smile and nod. "I have been a professor before, a few years before," I reply. A brief flash of expectant young faces before my eyes, coupled with seeing a some of those faces later bleeding out on the ground during the Siege of Mandalore, and the moment passes.

"Thank you, Professor," I mutter, "Good luck." "And to you, my dear," he replies.

I walk out into the sunshine and drop the sunshades that Dani gifted me with over my eyes. I join a line of those self-same vacuous creatures. As I walk towards the spaceport, I see another walking towards me who looks almost as out of place, as I am.

I flash back to a steaming jungle moon where those less-than-vacuous eyes are looking at me with psychopathic glee, as she tells a couple of antiques to blast me to pieces. She sees me. I stride toward her before she can run. Ignoring the other students, I grab her by the scruff of her neck. She is still dressed in the same field clothes, minus the cloth flying helmet and goggles, although, they have been laundered. I hear gasps behind me, as I drag her to a secluded alley. I shove her against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I explode. "I thought that I made it clear that I didn't want to see you, again."

"I am going to graduate school, you fucking tailhead bitch," she snarls. "I have to repeat a semester, thanks to you. I had to sell some priceless salvages for less than they're worth to pay for the school and that trip."

"You threatened me with extinction, making me face a couple of battle droids, making me strand you in a dangerous place so that I could escape and do my job; and you are angry because you had to repeat a semester? Is that the gist of it?" I ask, a little more calmly. "Plus, you just called me a 'tailhead bitch'."

"Yes."

"I think that you lack perspective," I murmur, conscious of how much I sound like Obi-wan Kenobi.

"You think that you are the one to give it to me?" She smirks.

"If I had the time or inclination. Or I gave a shit," I reply, matter-of-factly.

We stare at each other for a bit. She shifts her feet. My hand moves towards my shoulder holster.

I blink first, as I am tired of the pissing contest. I pull a datachip from my pocket. "This is what I pulled from the tactical unit of that fighter, minus some stuff that is too dangerous or sensitive for a doctoral dissertation," I say. I toss it to her; she catches it deftly. "Knock yourself out and stay the hell away from me."

I start to turn away. She says, quickly, "I do owe you something."

She comes close to me and draws back. Before I can react, for the second time in a month, my head rocks back from a right cross. It is not as good a punch as Covenant's. I am spitting out blood, but thankfully, my jaw doesn't feel like it was dislocated.

I bare my teeth to the student. It used to be that I could strike fear in the hearts of shinies, where my less-than-imposing height or young voice couldn't. She doesn't even blanch.

"What is your name?" I ask?

She doesn't reply.

"You probably owed me that one. You might get someone to teach you how to punch, as well as shoot," I say.

"You offering?" she challenges.

"There's that whole not-giving-a-shit thing," I reply and turn away.

As I walk away, before the police droids arrive, I hear from behind me: "My name is Aphra."

I ignore her, but file it away.

I am about to climb into the old, reliable Y-Wing, since my Aethersprite might draw more attention in the Core. I tell Arseven, who I have been meaning to repaint to a shade closer to his original red, rather than the pink he has faded to, to get us a course to Alderaan.

It is time to say goodbye for awhile to friends and family on Alderaan to keep them safe. Only then can I go recharge and re-connect for awhile. Both with my home and its beauty, as well as my hunt-brother.

Then I might need to mend some fences between an old friend and a new one.

But first, I think that I need a refresher on Galactic Economics, as I make a decision and turn in the opposite direction of the docking bay.

XXXXX

I sit in the back of the large darkened lecture hall filled with the hundreds of bright lights in the Force. I ignore them all. I ignore the murmurings. I sit in the darkness with my eyes closed and listen to a voice in my past. His beautiful voice with its deep, measured tones gives so much life to the dry subject.

My eyes are welling.

I think of all of the lessons that Plo taught me, of how to be a person, a Jedi, a better student to Anakin, plus how to take the edge off of Anakin's sharper foibles. But is the unspoken lessons, the lessons by example, that are the ones that I remember.

The lessons of forgiveness, of acceptance and admissions of one's mistakes.

Of letting go of the ghosts and the malevolence of the past.

Of remembering the lessons and the love of the past.

I rise, my heart slowly untwisting, my eyes drying.

I rise, to live again.

I rise, to fight again.


End file.
